


Birthday Drabble.

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Phone Calls & Telephones, loa - Freeform, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity get a call on her birthday. (Inspired by TVD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Drabble.

It had been a better day, Felicity thought as she replaced her blue dress with a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt.

It was easier to categorize her days like that. There were bad days and there were better days. There were days when she didn’t want to get out of bed; where she thought the regret and longing and heartbreak would crush her, and there were days when she managed to crack a smile; where she would have a small moment of freedom before reality came crashing back down.

Today had been… better.

It was her birthday, which, considering everything, she’d had low expectations for. She hadn’t even mentioned it, although Digg had remembered. She was happy when he didn’t do too much—he and Roy had sent her flowers at work. She had gone over to Digg and Lyla’s for dinner. Lyla had made cupcakes and had mint-chip ice-cream for after. Felicity played with Sara awhile, amused as Sara continued to tug on the zipper of Roy’s hoodie.

It was nice. It was one of the better days she’d had since Oliver had left— She’d smiled a few times, even. For a small moment, her chest didn’t feel like it was crushing inside of her.

But good days end just as bad days do—the same way.

So Felicity undid her high ponytail, reveling in the release of pressure as she ran her fingers through the tumble of curls. She washed the makeup off her face until it was clean, leaving her discarded glasses next to the sink. She brushed her teeth slowly, staring down at the sink. She went through the steps, like she always did.

She didn’t look in the mirror much anymore. It was easier to ignore the pain in her eyes, to deny that it was there, if she didn’t have to see it.

She walked into her bedroom, hearing the incessant buzzing of her phone on her night stand, a call ringing through her silent apartment.

"Hello?" she answered tentatively at the unknown number, waiting for another voice.

Silence.

"Hellll-ooo?" she asked again, listening hard. She waited another long moment, before she went to hang up.

She froze, suddenly. She hadn’t imagined it… there was a breathing on the other end.

"If this is some kind of weird prank call," she began, before trailing off as it hit her—before she realized just who would call her but not speak. Who would call, just to hear her answer. She felt tears rush towards the back of her eyes and she gasped.

"Oliver?" she asked, voice tight with emotion, "Oliver are you there?"

She could have sworn she heard a sharp intake of breath at his name on her lips, and she closed her eyes, memorizing the sound.

"Oliver, if this if you…" Felicity started, trying to talk past the lump in her throat, "You’re going to be okay. We’re gong to find a way to bring you home. Don’t give up."

Felicity’s voice grew stronger with conviction. He needed this—he needed her.

"I love you, Oliver," Felicity said through a sob, "Hold on to that. Don’t stop fighting."

***

Oliver stopped breathing at Felicity’s words.

Without even speaking, she had know it was him.

She knew that he needed her.

Every nerve inside of him urged him to say those three little words back—to assure her that he loved her completely.

Instead, he stayed silent, tears wetting his eyes; blurring his vision.

Don’t stop fighting.

Her words echoed through the phone, her grief aching his heart, and he nodded in agreement. 

It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see the movement—she knew. She always knew.

Oliver smashed the phone into the rock next to him in the next instant, diminishing the signal—nobody could find out he had called her.

Nobody could find out he was going to fight.


End file.
